


Mercury

by xvanus



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief, Guilt, Regret, This is basically me being mean to Martin again I am so very sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 12:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xvanus/pseuds/xvanus
Summary: Logic would have dictated that the death he was witnessing wouldn’t matter; that this Jefferson was an aberration, that his death was inevitable and it was illogical to grieve for a paradox.That didn’t stop him from grieving nonetheless.OrMartin's reflection on the death of the aberration version of Jefferson Jackson.





	

Martin had felt terror before. 

He had felt terror when he had first become Firestorm, when he found a stranger’s appearance staring back at him through the mirror and no logical explanation for his predicament could be found. He had felt terror when he was being tortured by General Wade Eiling, the spark of electricity flashing against the lenses of his glasses, all the work that he had poured into the FIRESTORM project on the verge of being turned into a weapon. He had felt terror whilst being dragged into the merge by Valentina Vostok, and he had felt terror at his own power as he forced his control over her like Vostok was a puppet on a string.

This terror, though… It was different. Different, but familiar. 

This was the same terror that he had felt when he had lost Ronald. 

Later, Martin would come to despise his behaviour in relation to the entire ordeal in 1916. He was a scientist; he was meant to put strict fact and analysis first and leave emotion behind.

He was a scientist, yet all of the logic was washed away as he saw Jefferson fall. 

Logic would have dictated that the death he was witnessing wouldn’t matter; that this Jefferson was an aberration, that his death was inevitable and it was illogical to grieve for a paradox. 

That didn’t stop him from grieving nonetheless. 

When Jefferson had fallen, taking the arrow in his place, he had felt the pain.

He wasn’t entirely sure of whether the pain was real, if it was from the bond he shared with Jefferson – did the bond function with this aberration version of Jefferson, too? – or if it was just from the sudden shock and grief that he felt at seeing his other half fall.

Whether it was real or not, the pain was still there.

Jefferson was dying, he was dying from an attack that wasn’t intended for him. Jefferson had sacrificed himself. Jefferson was _dying._

He had found himself begging for Jefferson to stay. To stay alive, to stay and be the other half of Firestorm, to stay with him. As usual begging didn’t seem to work, though, and Jefferson soon went deaf to his whispered pleas, body going limp and the pain dying out as he slipped away into the void. It was then that he found himself being moved away – his own Jefferson was calling to him, telling him to move, telling him to ignore that aberration that now lay upon the ground – but as he moved, his eyes were still locked on the fallen figure as the familiarity set in.

It was Ronald all over again. 

\-------

It was later that day that Martin had found himself him with his glasses off and eyes glazed over, staring blankly into his cup of Earl Grey. He had left the team with a vague of excuse of doing research into how to literally restore time itself back to normal, however, the reality was that he couldn’t face the others right now. 

Not after what had happened. 

It was illogical, and he knew it was illogical, but he couldn’t get the picture of Jefferson’s limp body out of his head. It was ingrained into his mind; there was physics and formulae, nuclear science and Hebrew scripture, family and friends, and then there was Jefferson. 

One part of him knew that Jefferson was fine. His Jefferson was fine, and their bond confirmed that. On the other hand, though, there was the lurking grief of watching the aberration of Jefferson die. There was a gnawing pain at having watched him pass, and then there was the desolation as the realisation of what had happened set in.

Jefferson – the aberration, yes, but Jefferson all the same – had died for him.

If the aberration version of Jefferson would sacrifice himself, then it meant that actual Jefferson, his Jefferson, might one day try to do the same. 

And there was no way on Earth that Martin would be able to deal with that. 

Losing Ronald had been enough. It had felt like part of him had been torn away; there was a sudden void inside of his head, one that Ronald’s thoughts and feelings had normally resided in. There was nothing then apart from a void, and then Jefferson Jackson had taken his place.

To begin with, Martin had despised Jefferson. He hated how he acted, how he refused to listen. He hated how young his new other half was, how inexperienced he was, and how downright disrespectful he could be. There was a time when he silently wished that Ronald was there with him instead – and then he stopped silently wishing at the pangs of pain coming from that came from the other side of his head, from the other side of the bond. 

In truth, Martin had been the disrespectful one. He had forgotten that in order to gain experience you had to live through things first. He had forgotten that not everyone was like him; Jefferson was his own person with his own personality, and Jefferson had the right to be his own person as well. He had forgotten that his words could be hurtful, that sometimes he could do more harm than good. 

From then on, though, things had improved. Himself and Jefferson had learned to work in tandem with one another, accepting each other’s ideas, turning conflict into partnership. He had watched Jefferson grow and face his demons, he had watched Jefferson learn and become the best of them. He had watched Jefferson become the better half of Firestorm. He had watched Jefferson become something akin to a son.

There was no way that he would be able to handle losing Jefferson. Ronald had been bad enough. There was the guilt and the regret; there were so many things he should have said, so many things that he should have apologised for, and he never got to say them. 

He couldn’t let Jefferson die the same way.

(He couldn’t let Jefferson die.)

Seeing the passing of that aberration had been too familiar. It had brought too familiar a feeling, too familiar a guilt. Jefferson had become his other half, Jefferson had become his anchor, and there was no way that Martin could ever lose that. 

Between the blue flames and the inescapable void that would take Jefferson’s place, it would be the end of him.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this piece is named after the song Mercury by Sleeping at Last. Thank you for reading!


End file.
